Pudge remembers forever
by Branlando
Summary: First attempt at any of this! Abstracted writing from Pudge's perspective, he continues to remember Alaska long after her death. It's amazing what can trigger the memories that assault the senses. Pudge breaks down with a longing for his friend that will never be continued...


It's amazing that a person can alter your life so drastically… To have something emblazoned so thoroughly upon your mind, to become so central to the inner workings of your mind that anything creates a link to her.

I glanced outside at just the right, or possibly the wrong, time. The window lent a view that was normally quite mundane, never drawing the eye for longer than a second at a flicker of movement caught in the periphery. I'll never be able to tell you what it was that redirected my attention from my usual early morning rituals, namely the methodical segregation of the marshmallow pieces and the normal bites of cereal, done with groggy eyes. These eyes quickly cleared of any sleepy residue, however… It had been a very odd morning to begin with. For one thing, I was awake. The breakfast ritual was performed five out of seven mornings a week, making it odd that this Sunday morning was among the days participating. I had inadvertently replaced my usual slouch around clothing with the darker mourning colors I had forgone earlier that year. Also amiss was the fact that the clouds had descended to kiss the earth good morning, resulting in an impenetrable fog surrounding my home. Add to that the lack of light snoring from my parents' room across the hall and I had started my day with an odd frame of mind as it were.

As I looked past the faintly visible smudges into what had become a grey void of mist, the sun was visibly fighting to make its touch known to the grass that constantly searches for its tendrils of light. The void was becoming bleached, turning lighter and lighter one shade of the spectrum at a time. Then it appeared to clear away completely. There was only a small patch of the yard visible, the rest faded from view. I wasn't interested in finding the trees at the edge of the yard though, I sat enraptured by the intense coloration of the grassy blades, still adorned by the fog's parting gift of shimmering dew. In a normal circumstance this sight would induce awe and admiration, and I gave the scene the emotional outburst it deserved, however it was not to my immediate surroundings that these intense feelings were directed. I'm sure my mouth fell open. My spoon probably clattered against the bowl, the motion strong enough to break the weak hands of sound, likely a reverberating boom in comparison to earlier moments, but it wasn't enough to snap me back to reality. This is the truth, I was no longer sitting in that chair. The emerald hues seen through the lenses in my eyes were in accordance with the emerald hues drudged up from the depths of memory rising from the murk as a tide of ocean currents sweeping me away from today.

Instead I saw a different day. On this day I was outside and sitting down on the grass. This grass was not the same patch as the beautiful and picturesque landscape before my present, but its reasons for sticking in memory were just as potent. Cross legged, I sat regarding a girl. Her hair was a rich and dark brown, resembling the wood of a mahogany desk, polished and shining. Her skin was a touch darker than alabaster, but just as flawless, and these two features of hair and skin framed the source of my flashback. The orbs of pure and unnervingly rich green, seemed to catch a gaze and draw them in, until it felt as though your very essence was laid bare before the hungry sight of them.

And of course what was this goddess given mortal form doing with these eyes? Staring directly into my soul. However the effect was slightly lessened during this gaze, as her face was scrunched up in irritation and the eyes did a roll around their sockets. I zoned in on her voice, the lilting of the words, spoken almost to quickly to catch. It was a topic I wasn't in the mood so much to deal with at the time, but I'd give anything to go back and relive those moments so I could really pay attention. I had just gotten kicked out of class for, what do ya know, glancing out the window. This had never happened to me before! Teachers loved me, they always did! But this one wheezed at me to go where my attention was today and focus on class the next day. I was rather humiliated, but my friend, now laying across from me searching intently for a four leaf clover, had stood up and called him out on his bull for such a small interruption. I was grateful for the company, and even more grateful for the chance to be alone with her. She scared the shit out of me though when she suddenly shouted "I found one!" and plucked a clover with three normal leaves and one tiny one towards its base. Plucking off this fourth frond, she smiled happily and told the plant that it didn't have to worry about being a genetic freak anymore…

Another memory surfaced. I could see it as though from above. There were no other people nearby, since it was dark and school was on break. Just her and I, sitting very near each other in the middle of a soccer field… As with anyone desperate for love, this was a very romantic night in my mind. I distinctly remember the taste of strawberries and cough syrup, the bottle nestled between us as we took turns taking a swig. The scent was that of cigarette smoke as we both had one lit, mine partly gone and hers racing towards the tip, as she had already made clear that we might smoke for pleasure, but she smoked to die… She had insisted on reading to me this night, claiming I had never lived if I had never done exactly this. The words of her favorite author becoming indistinct as the wine took hold of my brain, dulling all senses but my sense of her. I could feel her proximity more so than if she'd been leaning on my side. I could see her while looking up at the stars. I watched myself lean towards her slightly, and hear her words, telling me not to ruin this moment… It was amazing that the near darkness did not lessen the shine of the perfect gems staring back at me, half lidded from alcoholic excess…

The memory that came next was inevitable. There was no avoiding it, as much as I may try. My roommate and myself were in her room, the two of them having a stand-off, seeing which of them could handle themselves with the largest amount of liquor consumed. My roommate had passed out, or was very nearly there, on the open bed across the room. She slurred her words, so beautiful even with that vacant stare, and she suggested something that would irrevocably change my life. The suggestion rolling off of a drunken tongue was a game, and this game had consequences. Truth or Dare. There was no toying around, she dove straight into what I believe we had both been feeling for some time now. I picked a dare and her dare was for us to hook up. Her phrasing, not mine… As it were, who was I to say no? So I crawled onto her bed, and our lips met with urgency, a taste of stale cigarette smoke and strawberry wine and vodka, and yet I will always say that it was the ambrosia of the gods upon my lips. Using her own system for these things (French, feel, finger, fuck) we made it to second. She stopped us from continuing, assuring me that we could continue another time. A conspiracy was brewing in the emerald abyss even as I watched her pass out, through her self-imposed stupor I could see the cogs turning. There was more to be done from her perspective regarding the two of us, I'm quite convinced of it…

My vision came back to the here and now, my reverie having run its course. The sun had eaten away entirely the mystical fog that had encompassed my yard. Ironic considering I no longer had any appetite myself… Although my cereal was soggy by now, my blurry vision showed that milk was no longer the only liquid soaking them. Wiping away my tears to clear my eyesight once more, a terrible sob broke erupted through my chest and tore through my throat leaving it raw. Once past the pain for over a month, I had been doing well, and then one reminder draws the strand of connection taut, and such a simple thing. When she made her home in my memories, I should have known she would always cause trouble. It was her nature. And as her nature was fickle, spending not too much time on one thing, so she was with life. I remembered the day after that fateful night of drunken make out sessions all too vividly… In my sobbing fit I saw the calendar, and the date. This drove me past the point of sanity, I fell to the floor clutching myself and trying to hold my pieces together… I almost welcomed the assault on my emotions as an old friend that I hadn't seen in ages, so close had I become to it in our recurring time together. The rasping did not wish to cease, ending only when my breath refused to remain cohesive, instead driven by spontaneity; one small gasp turns to a shuddered and drawn out inhalation, only to be forced back through my airway as my diaphragm revolts.

Time lost meaning, and eventually my body became too exhausted to continue its convulsions, and I was left to a numbness that pervaded my entire being. Of course I would never be able to call this beautiful woman of my memories my own. I would never be able to hold her again, to feel the soft and delicate flesh as our lips melded to the point that they were inextricably entwined. She was no longer a physical aspect of my life, but she would always play a role in my thoughts. The calendar was a reminder that my tired mind had failed or refused to register, that today was the 2nd anniversary of the date she left my life. The world was a darker place now that the emerald expanse of her conscious mind was forever closed from the living…


End file.
